Matthias took a deep, fortifying breath. “Yes,” he said. “All right. Tell the Lekke I will arrive at Banrissa within the hour.”
Nadia stood in one fluid movement. “I will never understand how you are related to that family.”
He flashed her a watery smile. “Not all Byrnes are like my mother,” he said. “You never met Alethea. She was . . .” He swallowed hard. “She was the very best of us.”
Nadia turned and was gone in a swoop of her cape. Agnes didn’t realize Vada had been clutching her arm until she released it and the blood flowed prickling into her fingers. Matthias yelped when he saw them hidden behind the shelf.
“I told you to stay in the archives,” he said.
“You work for the Triumvirate?” Agnes demanded.
“I advise the Lekke when she requests it,” Matthias said. “And, as you plainly saw, I have no interest in revealing your presence here in Ithilia. But you must leave the city at once.”
“That’s the plan,” Vada said.
Matthias was shaking his head slowly. “I never thought she would go so far as to actually physically attack the Triumvirate. Whatever scheme she has been stewing on for years, it seems the time is finally ripe to act. I fear for what that means for my country. It is bad enough, this threat from Kaolin. It is worse if we tear ourselves apart from the inside.” He placed a hand on Agnes’s shoulder. “I am grateful I got the chance to meet you.”
“Me too,” Agnes said, her throat tight.
“She’ll be taking your brother and your friend to Culinnon,” Matthias said. “That is where you must go. Leave at dawn; that’s usually when the docks are quietest. Misarros are patrolling the waters heavily.”
“What are you going to advise the Lekke to do?” Agnes asked.
“That is a very good question. But one you need not concern yourself with. I wish I could offer you better advice—in truth, I would tell you to avoid my mother altogether. But I know you cannot do that. I see Alethea’s stubbornness in you. She would not abandon a friend she had promised to help.”
Her mother would have done what she was doing. Her mother would have approved. Agnes looked around at the shelves and balconies towering above her. There was no way she could sit her interview now. She would have to give up this dream, to help Sera and get back to her brother.
Matthias seemed to read her thoughts. “You are thinking about your acceptance to this university,” he said.
Agnes shrugged and hoped she looked nonchalant. “It’s all right. Maybe I can apply again next year.”
“There is no interview, Agnes. It was all a formality. My mother used it in hopes of getting you to Pelago. You have already been accepted to the Academy of Sciences—she decreed it since the day you sent in your application. But she hopes that once she gets you to Culinnon, you won’t want to leave.”
Agnes’s head spun and the ground seemed to tilt beneath her. “Are you saying . . . I didn’t . . . qualify?”
Matthias gave her a sympathetic smile. “I read your essay—I promise you, Agnes, you are eminently qualified. My mother just doesn’t think Byrnes need to follow the rules like everyone else.”
Hot tears filled her eyes but she didn’t want to cry, not yet, not here. They had a job to do, a purpose, a mission. Her grandmother buying her way into the university shouldn’t matter right now. And yet somehow it did.
“We have to go,” she said. “We have to get to Leo and Sera.”
Vada put a gentle hand on her shoulder but Agnes shrugged it off. She didn’t want comfort right now. She didn’t know what she wanted.
“I do hope to see you again, Agnes,” Matthias said. Then he grinned, quick and catlike. “The semester begins at the end of the month.”
Agnes managed a nod and left the library in a daze, Vada following close behind. She walked down the steps back to their waiting metapar on wooden legs, climbing into the seat as Vada said, “Take us to the Street of Lies. Bas’s Secret.”
The cart lurched forward. Agnes was dimly aware of the streets they wound through, but all the colors and sounds blurred together.
“This isn’t how I wanted it to be,” she said after a while. Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was supposed to deserve a spot, not have it gifted to me because of my family name.”
“Hey,” Vada said. “Do not be so cruel to yourself. You are the smartest person I know, Agnes McLellan, and one of the bravest too. Your grandmother did what grandmothers do—she tried to take care of you. Adults are not always knowing what is best for us.”
Agnes shook her head. A tear slid down her cheek and Vada brushed it away with her thumb, a simple gesture that held more meaning than Agnes could put into words. True, her acceptance was not what she thought it would be. But Vada was here, Vada was touching her, comforting her.
“I am thinking you will be making one of Pelago’s premier scientists,” Vada declared.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Perhaps. But why would that mean it is not also true?”
Agnes gave in to the smile that rose up inside her and allowed herself to melt a little into Vada’s arms. She could feel Vada’s heart beat against her shoulder and it was exciting and calming all at once.
There were other things to consider anyway, she thought as the cart bumped along the streets of Ithilia. Her grandmother had attacked that princess. Leo and Sera were safe for now. She hoped Vada knew how to get to Culinnon. Her stomach pinched at the thought of this mystical island she never knew existed that would one day be hers.
She wondered if Ambrosine knew her estranged son was working for a member of the Triumvirate. Probably—her grandmother seemed like the type who knew everything.
The metapar rolled to a halt and Agnes looked around. They were on a narrow street lit with colorful paper lanterns. Wild music spilled out of the crooked restaurants and bars that lined the cobbled road, and the people here were dressed in slinky clothes and seemed like the sort who would not be out of place in Old Port’s East Village—artists and musicians and philosophers.
“Where are we?” Agnes asked as Vada jumped down to pay the driver.
“The Street of Lies,” Vada said. “Bas’s Secret is one of my favorite spots in all of Ithilia. They have the best plum wine in Pelago and I am thinking we could both use a drink.”
Agnes allowed herself to be led into a bar with no sign, just a painting of Bas above it, the goddess reclining naked, her long black hair covering her more sensitive parts, her red skin shining dully.
Inside, everything was red and black. Red painted walls with black tables, lamps with red-and-black checkered shades perched on each one. Smoke swirled through the air and there was a small stage in one corner with a jazz quartet playing. The bar itself was fashioned out of a coffin, Agnes realized, which seemed awfully morbid yet also appropriate for a place named after the goddess of death.
“Vada,” the bartender said with a smile as she approached. She was a wizened old woman with gnarled hands and a gold tooth. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen your face around here.” She eyed Agnes curiously. “Who’s your friend?”
“We need a table and to use your washroom, Neve,” Vada said.